Moonbeams in a Jar
by Tari Roo
Summary: AU  Crack  John, alone on the streets of Colorado Springs, meets Rodney McKay, who takes him home. For milk.


Moonbeams in a Jar

Author: Tari_roo

Rating: PG

Fandom: SGA

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I profit from nothing. But if I did… there'd be a lot more seasons of SGA

Summary: AU (Crack) John, alone on the streets of Colorado Springs, meets Rodney McKay, who takes him home. For milk.

Warning: None.

AN: Ah…. For schneefink who wanted crack. It's not all as 'cracked' as I thought I'd write, but hey, its not normal!

The cold Colorado winter night was rapidly turning freezing as the wind picked up from the snow covered Rockies and howled through the streets of Colorado Springs. John hugged the wall of the alley as he trotted over and around the scattered trash and filth, trying to stay out of the wind and failing. The alley was full of rank, foul odours and John resisted the urge to bury his nose in his shoulder.

The sound of a heavily trafficked road ahead filled the night. It wasn't late, not yet, but full winter dark had fallen and John kept to the shadows, staying out of sight. The stink of the alley was fading into brighter, warmer smells. Fish, hot chips, meat cooking, something sticky and sweet – it was all very enticing. Not even the hubbub of loud voices and laughter detracted from the allure of food, hot delicious food.

John slinked closer, eyes darting left and right, ears pricked for sounds of trouble.

Instead, opportunity presented itself.

A man, heavily ladened with grocery bags bulging with food was hurrying down the sidewalk, eyes more on the restaurants he was passing than the path ahead.

Crouching down, spine poised for action, John timed it … to perfection!

The man went down in a crash, bags landing with a bruising thud as John leapt and wound himself in and around the guy's legs. He nearly mistimed it and narrowly missed being stepped on, but hunger would do that to you.

Quickly detangling himself, John scanned the fallen produce hoping for something small, open and light to steal when heavy hands landed on his back. With an indignant squawk, John was lifted up and off his feet and he came eyeball to eyeball with his victim.

"Why you…. Stupid thing! You nearly broke my neck!"

John swung by the scruff of his neck, legs swinging in the wind and waited for the perfect opportunity – again.

Huge, bloodshot eyes bored into his, and he counted to three as he turned the cute factor up a notch and yawned. The corners of the eyes crinkled as the man peered at him, and John pulled out the piece de resistance, … he shivered dramatically.

"Oh, you're nothing back a bag of bones though… don't expect me to hug you, you probably have fleas or something… but maybe…" The man looked away for a split second and John struck, sinking both sets of claws into the exposed skin of the arm holding him and lashing out with his legs, claws extended, sharp.

"Shit! Ouch! You little bugger!"

Naturally, he was dropped like a hot potato, and John landed neatly on all fours, headed straight for a packet of salmon and tried to pick it up. As usual, he underestimated his strength and nearly tripped over the packet. Man, now pissed off man, was whirling on him and John dodged to avoid the inevitable kick. Instead though, he was corralled and hauled up by his scruff again. Hissing and spitting, yowling like a mad thing, John fought to be free.

"Ouch, ouch, shut up!"

John fought harder, twisting around, trying to scratch the guy, or bite him, but the dude had learnt his lesson. "Quit it, I'm taking you home, you wretched ungrateful feline!"

In an instant, John paused, ears perking up, mid motion of climbing up the guy's arm again. Home?

"Oh, that got your attention, huh? Yes, home."

Awkwardly, the guy gathered his groceries, a passerby helping and John helpfully hissed at her. Getting a glare for his rudeness, the man hurried down the sidewalk and turned into an apartment building a block down. It was blissfully warm inside.

Instantly John relaxed and figured he'd eat, get warm and high tail it before the guy figured he had a new pet. The dude struggled with the lock and staggered inside and in one fluid motion, let John go, and closed the door. The apartment was heaven. A fire cracked and hissed in a fireplace and it smelled rich and warm with cooking something. Instantly though, John ran for the couch and hid in the space between wall and material.

Huffing, the man carried his bruised groceries into the kitchenette and began pottering around. "Typical. Don't get your fleas on my couch, got it."

John watched carefully as the man threw some more ingredients into a pot, swished the contents around, tasted it, made a face and added more sauce. He then opened the fridge, got out some milk, and from the cupboard a saucer. John rolled his eyes. How cliché.

The tuna can though John had no intention of resisting and when both saucer of milk and tuna were put down near him, he dashed out and wolfed the tuna down. "Hungry, huh?"

No shit, Sherlock. John shot the nincompoop a 'please' look and finished up the tuna. The milk was going off, but was wet and tasty. John fully expected the small, clumsy hand and bore it with reluctance, figuring if he played nice, there'd be more food. "Ewwwww…. You reek. And you really are skin and bones."

Life is tough on the streets, moron. John resisted the urge to purr, or arch his back into the petting, but before he knew it, he was doing just that. "Quite the flirt, aren't you?"

At that though, John pulled away and headed for the fire. Might as well enjoy the luxury while he could. There was a pile of laundry on the floor and John deliberately burrowed into it. "No!" was the resultant shriek and he was shooed off. "Gah, can't believe I left this out. She's almost here!"

It seemed the guy was on a date, or rather preparing for one and John had a sudden frightening thought and wondered if this dude was a serial killer and that he was the starter, with the date as the main course. But after scanning the guy again, shortish, kinda dumpy, balding, with a slight panicked look, John scratched that idea. And then he scratched that damn flea behind his ear.

Curled up in front of the fire, John watched his host bustle around the kitchen in a state of gastronomic panic, haphazardly setting the small table with an odd collection of mismatched cutlery. It was almost like watching a comedy sketch.

Just as John was drifting off, the steady warmth lulling his tired body to sleep, the door bell rang. Typical.

The dude froze, real panic on his face and he awkwardly smoothed his diminishing hair and hurried for the door. John yawned, feeling his jaw crack with the motion. With a full stomach, he didn't plan on leaving and this date would probably be interesting if not amusing.

As the door opened, a stench unlike any other filled the room and John instantly sprang to his feet with a hiss. In the doorway, stood a tall, gorgeous leggy blonde leaning provocatively on the frame. "Hello, Rodney."

"Ah, ah, hello, Louisa."

John though was bristling all over. Everything about the thing masquerading as a women screamed _wrong, wrong, wrong,_ and he yowled.

"Hey, shut up! Crazy cat!"

The woman, stepping inside, shot John a dismissive look. The stench was rotten fish, which usually John liked but there was an undercurrent of something else, dark and twisted. She touched Rodney's face and smiled, her teeth glinting and hell, if the stupid, love struck moron didn't see those friggin canines, but John did.

The moron closed the door behind her and hushed John again. For a moment John thought about running, just leaving the dim witted fool to whatever fate awaited, but the dude had given him tuna and looked kinda geeky and John had a soft spot for geeks. So John attacked.

He ran at the couch, launched himself up its back and straight onto the creatures head. He sunk his claws in and screeched to high heaven. The woman slash creature screeched back, and tried to grab him. The fool, Rodney did too, but John held on, and tried to bite and scratch some more.

It was a riot of black fur, foul smelling blood, and panicked shouts as they both tried to get him off. John fought hard, but he was just a small black cat and the creature finally caught his tail, he was always forgetting about it, and threw him into a wall.

The impact rattled everything and the world swam and tilted in a crazy dance, black threatening at the edges of his vision. "Hey!"

Too stunned, and maybe too hurt to move, John lay on the floor for a second and Rodney yelled, "You didn't need to …"

He trailed off in a manner so reminiscent of a horror movie that if John could, he'd smirk. "Your face…"

At least the moron was a little quicker on the uptake when the monster underneath was revealed and Rodney was moving fast. But not fast enough. He nearly made it to the coffee table, when the monster tackled him and they crashed onto the rug. Rodney shouted and screamed as the woman pinned his arms and legs and leered over him.

The dude had to have deaf neighbours. "What in the hell are you?"

"Tsk, tsk, Dr McKay, you should have paid more attention in school."

This guy was a doctor? John shook his head, clearing the stars and watched the woman lean closer, her tongue flicking out. Where his claws had sliced her skin, a greener, scalier skin underneath was showing and there was something wrong with her spine.

"They don't teach kids about weird ass snake woman in school!"

"Pity, if they had, then you'd know there's nothing you can…"

John leapt, muscles and spine protesting but he landed on her back, and scratched his way up her spine, biting hard. She reared back, pointed fangs long and glistening, shrieking at him. In the same moment that she grabbed John and tossed him off her, Rodney pulled an odd gun from the wreckage of the table and shot her.

She collapsed, boneless and John skidded across the floor, after landing with another resounding thump. Through the haze of pain, John saw Rodney pick up the phone and yell down it at someone. Yeah, call the MIBs on this one, dude, 'cos this… totally out there.

John kinda lost some time but eventually time snapped back to its normal pace, and he found himself on someone's lap. Rodney's lap.

There were a lot of people in the room, government type people, and they were hovering around acting like they knew what they were doing. Rodney, proving he was pretty smart afterall, was talking to someone, loudly and still stroking him. It felt … awesome.

"I don't friggin know or care, General! Alien, freak mutant, who knows. But you're supposed screening process employed her! I was just dating her!"

There was more shouting, and more talking and John purred through it all, uncaring. He was warm, and nothing hurt… much.

"Hows he doing?"

John opened his eyes to peer at a much nicer smelling blonde lady and Rodney pulled him closer, possessively, "He's fine, Sam. Carson said there were no broken bones."

"Just checking, Rodney."

Sam's hands were smoother and gentler than Rodney's and it was fun to see how Rodney glared as he started purring at her touch. "Sure, like her too, fickle thing."

"He's a cat, Rodney, an injured one at that."

Rodney huffed, a snort of dismissal rumbling through him, "Ha, he knew there was something wrong with Louisa the moment she walked in."

Sam nodded, "Yeah, maybe we should have him at the mountain, screen all our personnel."

Another Rodney snort, but John didn't miss the considering look directed at him. "Well, I'm glad you're ok, Rodney. And you too, snookums."

John twitched at that, and pulled away from Sam. Rodney laughed, "Snookums… come on, Sam. That's a terrible name."

"What, and I suppose you're going to call him Einstein or something. Maybe Hardy?" Sam grumbled, mock glaring at John before stroking his ear. Eyes closed in bliss, John nearly missed the open mouth Rodney had, ready to deny that he was keeping him, but unexpectedly, Rodney said, "No, no, I just think you should wait and see what name is more applicable. You know… let the cat decide."

Curious that Rodney a) thought he was staying and b) wanted him to stay, John flexed his claws a little and even though Rodney winced, he didn't pull away. "Well, whatever you decide, just get a flea collar. And decent cat food, Rodney."

"I will!"

Eventually everyone left and it was just Rodney and John on the couch, John a tight black ball of contentment. He ached sure, but it wasn't bad enough to keep him awake. Rodney was filling in paperwork, muttering under his breath an array of imprecations at government bureaucrats.

The small apartment, cleaned up, still reeked of monster, so John nearly missed it. But the whiff was very distinctive. Chocolate.

Rodney was munching a bag of m'n'ms and John stretched out a lazy paw, demanding one too.

"Noooo, no no no, not for you."

John tried to persuade him with artful pawing before sinking deep claws into Rodney's leg. As Rodney screeched, the m'n'ms went flying and John leapt off the couch after them. It wasn't such a good idea as he wobbled, his legs and back protested, but the scattered m'n'ms were soon hoovered up.

"An m'n'm loving cat, great. Just my luck."

Much later, when Rodney was in bed, asleep, John sat curled up on the foot of the bed. Rodney was a litany of snorting snores and was drooling on his bed. An open book, on greek mythology lay on the bed and Rodney had left the window open a crack.

It was decision time, leave or stay. Leave and go back to eeking out an existence on the street or staying with a 'person' and getting regular meals. There was however one advantage to staying with Rodney McKay, MD. He hadn't seem that surprised by the monster lady and had connections with secret government agencies, so maybe, just maybe, he was the right person to stay with. Because maybe, he'd be able to figure out a way to turn John back.

Either way, stay or go, John had left Rodney his first clue. A message on the mirror, in pawprints. And John figured there'd be no harm in staying for a little while and seeing if Rodney was smart enough to figure it out and help John.

Help him turn human again.

FIN.


End file.
